Confinement and Contemplation
by WriteBecauseYouHaveAStory
Summary: "You're just like him". Maya was wrong, Olivia was more like her than she thought. It turns out that isolation is a playground for the troubled imagination. While in captivity, Olivia begins to reflect on the life she's lead and the lives she's missed out on. Set after 4x09. One-shot.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Scandal or any of its characters (unfortunately)**

"Drink."

Olivia's eyes landed on the opaque glass of water being shoved in her face. She wanted to scoff-to ask if he was kidding her, but she knew better.

During her college years, she had prided herself on not being naïve enough to accept any suspicious drinks during parties, and she surely wasn't going to abandon one of her most useful tactics when her life was on the line.

"You first."

She tried to ignore how the air grated her vocal cords like sandpaper.

In a split second, the glass was thrown to the ground, shards and murky water meeting rock solid concrete. Olivia bit down on her lip to contain a gasp as several pieces grazed her feet.

She bit down harder as she was met with the appalling sight of two frighteningly blue eyes-one real, and the other glass.

"I really wouldn't be difficult right now if I were you-" he cut himself off, and Olivia sent up silent prayers of gratitude for not having to put up with his malodorous breath for another second.

Without another word, he stood up from his previous position of kneeling on the floor and took a step back.

Olivia felt an unnerving chill run down her spine as he inspected her. The thought of him towering over her-both literally and metaphorically, made her nauseous. She was angered by how small she felt, shoved in a corner, clothes ripped and both hands and feet bound.

"Funny," a faint trace of amusement settled on his face, as he shook his head. "I hadn't realized it before."

Olivia refused to give him the satisfaction of holding her interest; she continued to look at him with a blank stare.

"Your father..." he trailed off.

She almost jumped at the chance to correct him. _She didn't have a father_, not anymore. But she stopped herself, refusing to be engrossed in what he was saying.

"He ruined my life with that super spy crap. I was one of the first people working under him, before his identity was kept hush-hush and all that bullshit."

He took a step forward and kneeled before her once more. Olivia held her breath in an attempt to not gag, her stomach was empty enough as it was.

"I swore I'd kill him one day, but now he has all that protection all the time and..." his lips curved upwards, forming the most disgustingly sinister grin she had ever laid eyes on.

"Now, I'd say this-well this has to be some sort of sign."

And with that he left the room.

Hours had past, or at least she assumed.

Against her better judgment, she spent the entire time thinking about _him_, about how _he_ ruined everything for her.

He had destroyed any and every chance she had at normalcy.

She had become an unintentional overachiever-which wouldn't be so bad, if not for the fact that she could rarely dwell on her successes. Nothing ever felt like enough, because he told her it was never enough.

She was incapable of maintaining healthy relationships and took much longer than most to trust anyone. Certain displays of affection still made her slightly uncomfortable, and she swore she'd be well on her way to being a full-fledged misanthrope if not for the few valuable relationships she had established over time. And even then, she had a terrible tendency of misusing those relationships.

Yet, she couldn't help but wonder what it'd be like if he was normal, if he really did just work at the Smithsonian.

Would he have ever even gotten involved with her mother?

Seeing as he'd have nothing to offer her-no top secret documents or information, they'd probably never cross paths.

But what if her mother was "normal" too, if all of them were?

They'd sit down for dinner and discuss their days, boarding school wouldn't be on anyone's radar, and her mother would be the only one in command.

She'd experience all the ups and downs of growing up as an only child-being spoiled rotten, having to deal with an overprotective father and engaging in petty fights with her mother during her teen years.

Their most heated fights would revolve around which of her parents had the better recipes and who got to hog the TV and when.

And years later, after she had moved out, after she had married her high school sweetheart, they'd all get together again for Sunday dinners.

Memories and laughs would be plenty.

_And they'd be happy._

But because her mother was well on her way to being executed, and her father was just as good as dead, her best family memories would remain those which she lived when her whole life was a lie.

"Alright here."

Olivia's head snapped up at the sound of his jarring voice. He reeked of some cheap beer and looked even more disheveled than he had before.

She watched as he harshly placed a bag of Gettysburger and bottle of water in front of her.

"As much as I'd like to skip to the fun part, my orders include keeping you alive, so here."

She continued to stare at what was supposed to be here first meal in a day or two.

"You seem smart, so I guess that I don't need to explain to you how this whole not eating or drinking thing will only work for so long before you end up in some makeshift grave on a random road side where no one will ever find you."

She didn't give him the satisfaction of a response.

"I even went out of my way to buy this shit, and no there's nothing in it. I was strictly told to at least keep the President's whore alive or it could mess up this whole declaring war nonsense."

Olivia ignored his insult as her eyebrows furrowed. She couldn't have cared less about how her captor knew of their relationship-it was starting to become one of the worst kept secrets among Washington's powerful and excessively creepy. She did, however, wonder what any of that had to do with any wars.

He took notice of her change in expression and chuckled.

"Oh did you not figure it out? You're being used as a pawn, sweetie, a bargaining chip in this whole West Angola situation."

Olivia was slightly shocked by his revelation, but after years of having to put sleazy politicians in their places, she decided that she had, indeed, had enough of him.

"I am neither your "sweetie", nor am I anyone's whore, so I'd advise you to stop with the names."

Her captor's face was temporarily marred by surprise, followed by infuriation; that was the most she had said to him.

"And I assume that me not dying from malnourishment would benefit not only me, obviously, but you as well. Funny thing about _orders_, especially ones as serious as these; if you were to disobey them, regardless of from where they came, I'm positive you'd end up in a roadside ditch yourself."

She took a second to collect herself as she tried to ignore the hoarseness of her voice.

"Now, I'd love to be able to keep both of us alive, at least for the moment, but I'm pretty sure I'd need my hands for that."

Olivia watched the irate face before her turn slightly red with embarrassment.

"Right."

He roughly grabbed her arm, jerking her up. He turned her around to free her hands but hesitated, before pushing her into the wall.

Olivia visibly shivered with disgust as he leaned down to her ear.

"I have a gun-two actually, and so do the three men right outside that door. Now we might not be able to kill you, but something else that's funny about orders: they're a little flexible at times. You try anything, and I mean anything, and we'll make your time here a lot worse than it needs to be. And when boss asks why you're on the brink of death before we've gotten the green light, we'll blame it on an unwillingness to cooperate. You won't be dead, but you'll wish you were."

Taking a step back, he finally loosened the bondage before making his way out of the room.

Grinding her teeth, Olivia turned around and slowly slid down the wall. After a long moment, she reached for the water bottle. Once she had deemed the bottle unopened and not tampered with, she guzzled down most of it.

It was no '94 du Bellay, but it worked.

Having finally extinguished most of the fire in her throat, her mind became a little clearer. She decided that she'd wait to eat the food, in case it was the only thing actually edible that they'd give her for another few days.

And so, Olivia was left alone with her thoughts once more.

His words played again in her mind. The reason she was here was because of her relationship with Fitz.

And then the strangest thing happened, she began to laugh.

She had spent her first few hours after coming to terms with her captivation trying to figure out _why_. She had too many connections with too many people to pinpoint a reason. Meanwhile the answer was clear as day-her and Fitz. Practically anything and everything could be traced back to her and Fitz. It had been that way from the start, and seemingly always would be.

From the moment they had met, what she had with Fitz was nothing shy of pure passion. Their connection was raw, hungry, and sometimes painful. Their love had fueled a fire so bright that they, themselves, had often gotten burned.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that their encounters were always dangerously emotionally charged. The lines between lust and loathing had long ago been blurred, and both had spent far too much time in the grey area.

Civil conversations were few and far between, but still fulfilling and jovial, nonetheless.

Olivia couldn't help but replay their relationship in her head. It had become a sort of melancholy ritual. She tried to recall a time when their affection wasn't followed by longing or deep-rooted anxiety, but she couldn't.

Their love was so powerful that it hurt.

But was love supposed to hurt?

All they truly had were stolen moments. Sure, some lasted long enough to allow them to forget their commitments, but they were still just moments in time that didn't really belong to them.

They had selfishly robbed those around them of precious minutes, hours, days even. Their minutes of angst-filled stares weren't actually theirs. As painful as it was to admit-this life wasn't theirs.

Perhaps in another life, they were happily married, with a house in Vermont, full of kids and jam.

He'd be busy as mayor, but would always make sure to come home for dinner. There wasn't really a need for crisis management like there was in D.C., and since being a housewife was definitely not an option, she'd be a lawyer.

Everyone would know everyone, despite the large expanses of perfectly manicured lawns that separated each house. Holidays would be spent with neighbors whose kids were around the same age as theirs. The designated hosting house would be filled with mouth-watering aromas and roaring laughter.

She'd compliment Jessica, or Louise, or whomever on her pies, while receiving praise for her own homemade jam.

_And they'd all be happy._

But that life wasn't theirs to live, not here.

By the time Olivia was hungry enough to reach for the greasy bag before her, the turkey burger inside had turned into a puck.

She inspected it with slight disdain before deciding that the fries were a safer option. Plopping a cold fry into her mouth, she closed her eyes, and allowed herself, for the first time, to realize how physically drained she felt.

She divulged in a moment of self pity, reaching for another fry, before her eyes suddenly shot open.

He had gotten her completely correct; everything was perfect to a "T". Her head began to spin with realization. She had been followed for who knows how long. And suddenly those pictures of her made sense.

She felt sick to her stomach.

The only other time she had felt so gut-wrenchingly vulnerable was when she had found out about... Jake.

Her mind whirled with images and recollections.

Their relationship had been weird from the start, to say the least. She shook her head at the thought of how far they had come from that fateful day in the coffee shop.

Once true identities had been revealed, strong feelings of resentment overcame Olivia at the mere mention of his name.

But then she got to know him-actually _know_ him.

She started to appreciate his snarky comments, obnoxious smirk, and reassuring smile. He had a tendency to speak her own thoughts right back to her. She, too, wanted to be saved. She, too, wanted to "stand in the sun".

At some point her guard had begun to crumble. She tried to blame it on the fact that he had saved her life; she was sure she was developing some sort of need-to-compensate complex.

And then came that night she intended to simply use him to put a final nail in the coffin of B613. What she had not intended for was the development of a connection much deeper than she had ever experienced with him.

It wasn't until he confirmed that he had felt something that she allowed herself to believe it, to believe that she had felt something, too.

Their relationship didn't begin in a soul-shattering inferno. It started off in flickering flames, timid and unsure, and grew to a comfortable, inviting glow.

Almost instantaneously, her mind drifted to the warmth of the sun as it beamed down on them during their mid-afternoon strolls along the beach.

Their time together on the island had simply been... beautiful.

It took Olivia exactly two-and-a-half weeks to get a good night's sleep and another few days to stop involuntarily reaching for a phone that had been destroyed before she even got off the plane. And after many failed attempts, Jake finally managed to get her to relax the way she was supposed to.

During the remaining month and a half, she and Jake opened up to one another in a way that neither had never done with anyone else. It was such a relief to have someone who understood everything-dirty secrets and all.

She had come to know him, and somewhere along the way, she fell for him.

Although she still could not admit it, she loved him.

She loved how he made her feel safe and protected. She loved how she could envision a future with him, and actually have it mean something.

But at the same time, she couldn't help but feel guilty.

She liked to think that in another world, her heart wasn't split in two-that she could fully give herself to Jake and not feel that familiar pang of betrayal.

They'd still meet in a coffee shop, only he really would sell office supplies. They'd run into each other every morning for a week before one of them made the first move, and the rest would be history.

She'd bring him home to introduce him to her father and some time during their dinner, they'd discover that he was Jake's boss- the never seen, but often chatted about CEO of Acme Limited. The two would hit it off from there and bond over their shared interest in the betterment of office supplies everywhere.

Some time later, the company would seek to expand its foreign presence. And with a recommendation from "someone important", Jake would be offered a head position at their headquarters on some island.

Jake would accept, only after Olivia agreed to go with him; he needed someone to stand on the beautiful beaches and enjoy the sun with, and the corporation's newest branch needed someone skilled in public relations.

They'd adapt almost immediately and constantly take advantage of all that their personal paradise had to offer. On their down days, they'd sit around and read, just enjoying each other's company. Dinners would serve as their greatest battlefield as arguments over beer and wine were practically written into their weekly schedules.

They wouldn't plan for kids, but if they came, that'd be ok.

It'd be difficult as neither of them necessarily had the "parent gene", but they'd struggle together, and pray that they weren't ruining a living, breathing human being in the process.

_And they'd be happy._

But it was only fantasy, it wasn't their life to live.

By the time Olivia had brought herself back to reality, she had finished the fries and begun to absentmindedly pick at the burger.

She couldn't tell if it was because of the situation or her body's internal clock, but she suddenly felt tired. Her eyes scanned the room for anything remotely comfortable. Unfortunately she was only met with the sight of concrete- dull, concrete walls, and the firm concrete floor.

Groaning, she leaned her back against the wall. She worked with her metal restraints to pull her knees to her chest, before allowing her eyes to slip shut.

She couldn't fall asleep there, she needed to be somewhere else, anywhere else.

She sighed with content as her subconscious set to work. Visions of those she cared about living the lives they deserved to live filled her mind.

Huck, Abby, Quinn, Cyrus, and even David-they'd all find their fairytale endings, and they'd all be happy.

Just as the last of her consciousness began to slip away, Olivia thought of her mother, and how she had spent those twenty-two years spinning a web of magnificent untruths that made up her daughter's life.

_"You're just like him."_

She was wrong. Olivia had taken after her more than she thought

**Happy New Year! Decided to start mine off with actually following through with this. It was an idea I had been toying around with since the finale aired. **

**Criticism is definitely welcomed (but be gentle, I'm new to this haha). I'd love to know anyways in which I could improve. **


End file.
